


Momentarily Possessed

by MinionRipley



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinionRipley/pseuds/MinionRipley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fortune-teller can describe the past, present, and future, but what about love? A surprise reaction to a compatibility test reveals more than a spirit ever could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentarily Possessed

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Leon's reaction when you get a good reading at the fortune-teller's was so hilarious, I couldn't resist writing a short story about it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Posted to FF.net on 11/17/2013. Cross-posted here on 1/13/2015.

The building was small, practically nothing more than a wooden shack half-buried within the trees. A thick, green layer of moss smothered the shingle roof, and ivy chased across the washed-out walls. From outside it was silent and unassuming: no footsteps, no clattering dishes, not even a wisp of smoke from the cobweb-covered chimney. For all appearances it had been long-abandoned, just another house forgotten and left to slowly return to nature.

That was, if not for the freshly-painted sign out front.

“A fortune-teller?” Leon said. His tail lazily swayed back and forth. “I didn’t know Selphia had one.”

Frey looked up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Why? Are you interested?”

He grinned. “It could be fun. Perhaps they do séances, too.”

She gave him an uneasy smile. “I’m not sure I always agree with your definition of ‘fun,’ Leon.”

A chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “Oh, come now,” he said, tapping his feather fan against his hip. “Imagine it: the two of us together in a dark room, my right hand holding your left on the table, our breaths bated in anticipation of a specter’s touch or whisper, your fingers trembling ever so softly against mine…”

She felt her face began to heat at the thought of being so close to him, and she quickly turned her head away.

“… And then I reach under with my other hand and pinch your leg.”

She snapped her gaze back to him. “Leon!”

He tossed his head back with a laugh. “Just think of your expression! Priceless!”

“ _Honestly_ ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

He straightened, sliding his blue eyes back to her. The corner of his lips tugged up at what he saw. “Oh? Like how I can’t believe how red your cheeks are right now?”

As if his words had summoned it, her blush returned even fiercer than before.

Before she could respond, he stepped up next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. The contact, no more than a slight pressure, was surprisingly warm even through her clothes, and she could feel the heat of his body as he stood beside her. She suddenly realized he had never actually touched her before, not even after she had welcomed him to town, and she tried to suppress a shiver.

A shiver? The man was _aggravating_ , she reminded herself. But he was also more attractive than she thought anyone had a right to be.

“Come on,” he said, giving her a light push. “It’ll only take a few minutes.” Another push. “Those requests from the villagers aren’t going anywhere.”

Just as she felt him press his hand against her shoulder again, she threw her arms up with a groan. “All right! We’ll do it already!”

Leon chuckled. “Good answer. Let’s go then.”

Again, before she could respond, he slipped his hand down to her wrist and then began pulling her along as he strode forward. She had no time to react to the gesture beyond a slight gasp. A noise she hoped he hadn’t noticed, but she didn’t dare assume. The man was often eerily perceptive, picking out topics and thoughts she had believed well-hidden to tease her with. Or, more rarely, offering her a kind word or a small compliment before she’d quite realized herself that she felt sad.

But, if he’d noticed, he said nothing now. His gaze was intent on the door of the shack, his grin growing wider with each step, until finally he took hold of the latch and swung it open.

Only to have his expression fall flat at what lay within.

“Huh.” He tapped his fan against his side again, more sharply this time. “No specters here, I assume.”

It was an… _interesting_ room, Frey thought. And definitely inhabited.

Rather than the black-painted walls and dim lighting Leon had led her to expect, the interior was brightly decorated and well-lit. Numerous paper lanterns, in all sorts of patterns and shapes, hung from the ceiling, and piles of pastel-colored silk pillows lined the corners of the floor. Several large, ornate armoires overflowing with fabrics, charms, wax candles, and other sundry items dominated the room, leaving scarce space for the small wooden table and set of chairs at the center.

“Is anyone even here?” she asked, her eyes darting about. As far as she could tell, no one was inside right then.

Leon frowned as he looked around as well. “I would think-”

At that moment, a flurry of footsteps resounded from further inside of the house, and a moment later a man with tousled black hair and a flamboyant, harlequin-patterned coat several sizes too large burst through a curtained doorway.

“Customers! Customers!” he happily cried. “Oh, please do forgive me for not hearing you sooner. I was in the back busy with a few things, and I must have missed you coming in.” He stepped and twirled with ease around the numerous furniture pieces and knickknacks until he reached the table, whereupon he pulled out the two chairs closest to the entrance with a flourish. “Come, have a seat! Relax! Make yourself at home! Well, perhaps not _quite_ at home – I don’t know what all you do in yours – but you know what I mean…”

Frey nervously laughed, taking a small step back from the odd man. “That’s very nice of you,” she said, “but-”

“We would be happy to!” Leon finished, setting a hand on her back. She furtively shook her head at him, but he ignored it and pushed her forward. “After all, it would be very rude of us to have barged in for no reason.”

 _Well, there’s no backing out now_ , Frey thought with a frown.

“Oh, no worries. There’s no ‘barging in’ to be done here, no siree!” the man said with an overly-loud laugh. “Please, do come in!”

Frey had no choice in the matter, as Leon continued to gently push her further inside. Again, she found herself trying not to concentrate on the heat of his touch or how the bottom of his jacket brushed against her skirt with each step. Which, as she soon found, was actually quite easy, as her attention quickly grew absorbed in the task of stepping around all of the various belongings strewn about the floor.

Soon enough, though – or perhaps too soon, as Leon’s hand slipped away from her back – they stood at the table. Leon turned to her and opened his arms expectantly. She stared back in confusion for several long moments, uncertain of what he wanted.

“Your things,” he finally said, arching an eyebrow at her. “Unless you like sitting on a sword. To each their own, I suppose.”

“Oh! Sorry.” With a flush, Frey hurriedly unclasped her weapons from her belt and gave them to him. She watched as he carefully set her equipment and then his own, as well as his fan, down against a nearby wall. “Erm. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” he replied.

The fortune-teller smiled as he continued holding out the two chairs. He waited until they had both sat down before pushing them in and then, in one smooth motion, sliding around the table and into the chair opposite.

“So, what can I help you with?” the man asked, steepling his hands. “Do you desire a glimpse into the future? Or how about a peek into the past? Have you been down on your luck as of late? Don’t worry; I have plenty of charms and rituals for all occasions! Just tell me what you need.”

Frey thought of the wilting crops on her farm that she couldn’t get to perk up no matter what she tried. _It couldn’t hurt_ , she thought. She tentatively held up a hand. “Um, I-”

“Wait, don’t tell me!” the man cried. He slapped a hand over his eyes and leaned far back in his chair, nearly to the point of tipping it. “Yes, I can see it now, plain as day in my mind’s eye. What you want- No, what you _desire_ above all else… Yes, yes, it’s coming into focus…”

Frey chanced a quick look at Leon next to her. He sat, the picture of serenity itself, if not for the hand all-too-casually balled against his mouth and his trembling shoulders.

Seeing that, she settled back in her seat with a soft sigh. Leon had a penchant for the antics of people, and the more embarrassing for the one involved, the better. With him so amused, she knew they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

“Ahhh, yes,” the fortune-teller continued. “It’s coming to me now. Yes, yes… What you seek… What you have journeyed so far and wide to obtain… is… a…” He suddenly shot forward and slammed a fist onto the table, startling both Leon and her nearly out of their seats. “Compatibility test!”

Frey blinked. “A… compatibility test?”

“Yes, a compatibility test!” the man said with a firm nod and a wide smile. “I call upon the spirits to check your compatibility with someone you care about.”

Frey, however, wilted a little inside. How could the fortune-teller have thought she wanted _that_ of all things? It wasn’t as though she had walked in hand-in-hand with a…

She flushed and opened her mouth, a quick but polite _no-thank-you_ on the tip of her tongue.

But, again, Leon was faster. “A compatibility test?” he said, his tone surprisingly soft. “I remember how popular those were…”

Frey’s mouth slipped shut at the nostalgic note in his voice. She watched as he soundlessly uncurled his fist and set both of his hands on the table. The motion was flawlessly smooth, but his smile was tight and his gaze distant and sad.

Such solemnity was unlike him, she thought, but not unfamiliar. She had seen him in such a state several times before, when he mentioned his homeland, now long gone.

She wished she knew how to comfort him, but she couldn’t even guess where to begin.

After a moment’s hesitation, she reached over and gently rested her hand atop his. At the touch, his eyes sharpened and turned to her, and she offered him a small smile. “Would you like to have one?” she asked.

His eyes widened slightly. But only for a second, as the next they relaxed and his easy grin returned once more. He drummed the fingertips of his lone hand against the wooden tabletop as he appeared to think it over, although he made no move to dislodge her hand over his other. “Oh, I don’t know,” he answered at last. “I _was_ hoping for that séance.”

Whatever reply she had for him dashing the mood died on her lips when the fortune-teller kindly but firmly said, “I do not do séances, sir.”

Leon snorted, though without any real annoyance. “Fine,” he replied. “A compatibility test.”

The fortune-teller clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” he said. He settled back into his chair with a beaming smile. “Now, please hold hands with one another.”

That step was easy enough. Leon simply turned over the hand she was touching and curled his fingers around hers.

It was nothing more than a casual gesture, she knew, but still she felt her cheeks warm.

“Now close your eyes.”

And then it was no longer simply a matter of the feeling of his fingers against hers or the heat of her face. Without sight, her other senses seemed to increase in comparison. She grew aware of the sound of not just her breathing but also his – how the air slipped out from his chest at a slow, measured pace, each exhalation ending in a low, nearly imperceptible sigh. Then she noticed how he smelled, of the faint aroma of sandalwood, the sharp earthiness of trees, and ever so slightly the dry, brittle scent of old paper. Even his hands, which from a distance had always appeared smooth and perfect, she now felt the roughness of calluses along his palm and the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Likely from wielding a spear, she thought.

Then she wondered when he first began to use a spear. Had it been when he had entered into the priesthood? She had heard of some religions using fighting techniques as a means of exercise and meditation. Perhaps that had been the tradition in his time as well. Or had he taken up using one even before that? And, if so, what for?

There was so little about him that she knew.

“Now think of one another,” the fortune-teller said. “Focus on those thoughts of the other, as I call upon the spirits to test their purity and strength.”

She thought of Leon, in all the little she knew. She thought of his grins, his teasing remarks, his laughter. She thought of the way the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly when he genuinely smiled. She thought of how his cerulean eyes lit up and then softened when she offered him grilled or salted fish. She thought of his frowns, the crease in his brow, his stifled yawns after a night of apparently little sleep. She thought of how once, when she had been walking back to the castle late at night, she had caught him looking up at the stars with an unbearable forlornness in his gaze.

He had been embarrassed then, she remembered, but only for a moment, as he brushed it off with a joke the next. Sometimes she still wondered what had made him so sad, but she’d never asked for fear of appearing nosy.

“Think of the other,” the fortune-teller said again. “Focus only on them. Focus, focus…”

Frey furrowed her brow as she searched for more, for her own thoughts, for how she felt about Leon in turn. She thought of how frustrated he made her feel with his tongue-in-cheek comments and mocking jokes at times. Then she thought of how, too often, she would feel like an awkward thirteen-year-old when he followed them up with a coy remark and grin. Never serious, never real, she told herself. And yet sometimes she wondered, when she would turn and catch him looking at her with a warmth in his gaze he never seemed to share with anyone else.

But there was nothing there, she reminded herself. They were only friends. He’d said as much himself. Even this compatibility test was just for fun; it didn’t mean anything more.

“Yes, it’s coming to me now,” the fortune-teller said. “I see it! I see the lines of fate stretched between you two clear as day…”

Leon’s hand tightened around hers, and she barely suppressed sucking in a breath.

 _Nothing there. Nothing there_ , she told herself once more. She screwed her eyes shut, readying herself to hear that there was no chance, that she was silly for hoping at all in the first place.

“It’s a perfect match! Your compatibility quotient is through the roof!”

Frey’s eyes shot open in surprise. But before delight could set in, or cold reason that it was but a baseless guess to begin with, she heard from next to her:

“ _Yes!_ ”

Her jaw dropped open in shock, and she turned her head to Leon in bewilderment. He sat, stiff as a statue, his eyes wide and his free hand high in the air in a triumphant fist.

A brilliant shade of red swept across his cheeks, and he quickly dropped his hand back to his side. “I-I mean…”

He glanced between her and the fortune-teller, as if waiting for them to make an excuse for him.

When none came after several long moments, he drew his other hand away from hers and tightly crossed his arms across his chest. “That was not me,” he finally said, still blushing. “I was… momentarily possessed.”

Frey turned away, both to hide the flush spreading across her own face and to conceal the smile tugging at her lips.

Perhaps something was there after all.


End file.
